


Future made of virtual insanity

by Minne_My



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 1998), The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Magic, Non-Magical World, Vanishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:46:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27303616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minne_My/pseuds/Minne_My
Summary: What if Agatha had escaped vanishment?
Kudos: 3





	Future made of virtual insanity

She'd done many things in her time, crazy things, unlikely things, inadvisable things. But when she'd sent herself to vanishment, she did the riskiest thing of all. Agatha Cackle had willingly sentenced herself to death.

With only a matter of seconds to do so, feeling that cold fire flaring in her heart, she used her last resort, the one she knew she'd have to turn to if she failed. Anything was better than going back into that picture. At first it was Geraldine Gullet's whining voice that had grated on her nerves. But when Geraldine wasn't talking, there were pinpricks of something scratching away at her. It was faint at first, she hardly noticed it, so great was her anger and irritation at being imprisoned. But over time (time was such a blurry construct in that place, it hard to tell how much of it there was hanging around), the scratching turned to itching, morphed into a slight buzzing that never went away, like water in her ears. No matter how much she shook her head, it just would not fade.

She couldn't remember when she'd started to get used to it, not realising it wasn't normal until she was out into the real world. For a minute she thought she'd gone deaf. The whispering wasn't there anymore and it was unnerving to hear just silence. She thought being inside the picture was silent, free of the noise of everyday life, but it wasn't. There was always a hum in the air inside prison.

Vanishment was oddly still, lifeless. Her breathing felt too loud. There was that same muffled atmosphere but it was quiet this time. No buzzing in her ears. Agatha really couldn't decide which one was worse. She waited for her spine to be straightened into the foundation of a book, twisted into the base of a cauldron, her hands useless, her limbs shrunken into a useless object. Would it be fast or agonisingly slow? For the first time in years, she felt her heart skip in genuine fear. She had never really truly thought about her death. She'd lived so fast that she'd never needed to think about it, assuming that it wouldn't come to her until much later. She was only 125 years young.

She wandered around for a while but nothing happened. Vanishment was one long never-ending stretch of vacuum. She wasn't to know it but she'd just missed being recycled into a cauldron. There was, however, a light up ahead. Always a gambler, Agatha moved towards it. It was coming from up above, like someone had left a door open on the ceiling. She couldn't decide if it was a trap but didn't much care after failing right at the last hurdle. Damn her sister. The only person who could have ruined her plans and she did. Not only was she banished but everyone now knew her lonely childhood humiliation. While making a reputation for herself, she'd shielded and distanced herself from the past. Ada was the only one who would remember her first familiar, Murphy and she had to think about it for those few precious seconds. Agatha dashed away an impudent tear that had surfaced and focused on the light. It was still there. She had to gather some furniture to get to it. She didn't even think of using magic, she just needed to use up the pent-up energy that was making her feel uncharacteristically jittery. Agatha was used to being coldly calm and in control but now she felt as if she would explode. Each step up made her heart beat faster. She hoped she wasn't going to do something as silly as faint.

Balancing precariously on the furniture, she awkwardly manoeuvred to grip onto the edge of the opening. After what seemed like hours, she had got an ungainly hold on and pulled herself out of the hole. There was a background noise, the air smelled unidentifiable and she landed awkwardly on tarmac. She scrambled up and brushed herself off, looking around her. It was dusk. That didn't help. She felt dizzy and disorientated. She was standing outside a park, judging by the gates. Families were walking around in lurid costumes and bags of sweeties. She looked down and saw a manhole with the cover off. She now knew she was in the non-magical world. It was All Hallow's Eve. Dread settled over her. She'd never thought about what happened in vanishment until recently but if witches and wizards had escaped from there before, no wonder everyone thought they'd been turned into a book. They could never go back. If no one ever saw you again, they'd have to assume you died. Agatha didn't even want to try and see if her magic had been stripped from her. She closed her eyes and tried to focus. What were the chances that somewhere in the depths of vanishment led to a portal to the non-magical world? At least her head wasn't fuzzy with that infernal scratching. No more imprisonment. She never thought she'd think this but she'd sacrifice anything, even her magic, to be free of that picture. She thought she already had. She recited a spell in her head and didn't feel her senses stir. Her heart felt blocked, her head was starting to pound. The devastation was about to descend when a distraction distracted her.

'Good lady. Can I give you a lift?'

The man in the car had the desired effect of getting her to open her eyes. He wasn't bad looking. She tidied her hair coquettishly, straightened her skirt and started conversing. She hoped that her voice wasn't shaking.

'Are you going far?'

'Only to the next town.'

'What's to do there?'

'Going to an event.'

'Well you can drop me around there if you're so inclined.'

He grinned at her. Nice dimpled chin.

'Jump in.'

They exchanged pleasantries. His name was Ian. He was a radio DJ. She feigned interest in his occupation (DJ Icey Stevens was a bloody awful radio name but whatever) and smoothed her skirt over her knees, knowing that the motion would catch his attention. He'd already got a good look at her legs earlier. She just wanted to remind him of them. It might work to her advantage. Just in case he had other ideas, she had her garter knife. She never stepped outside without it. As the car trundled on, she smiled charmingly at her chauffeur. She was already gathering her wits. Her focus was getting sharper and she was deciding how she would approach this situation. She toyed with the idea of pleading amnesia or just straight up knocking him out and stealing the car. Seduction was also an alternative. She ruminated on her options.

'I don't know how you are affiliated but I wonder if you're interested in coming with me to…'

She stared at him when he told her that he was going to. A Pagan coven? There would be cats? And alcohol? Sign her up. He mistook her expression.

'People tend to feel disturbed at the idea of witches but there is nothing satanic about Paganism. It's completely misunderstood.'

She smiled.

'Well, as it happens, I'm looking for a coven myself. It's been a long time since I was part of one.'

She settled back and schemed. She knew it wasn't going to be proper magic. But she needed to feel that warmth, that glow, the spark from her fingertips to be complete again and if it took joining a Pagan one, she'd take it. She'd manage to persuade someone there to give her lodgings for the time being and go from there.

She was starting to feel relief. She'd find her way. She always did.


End file.
